


The Right Path

by LtLJ



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-17
Updated: 2003-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLJ/pseuds/LtLJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene vignette set during the episode Warrior Princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Path

 

 

It was late afternoon and gray clouds still lingered, threatening rain, so they found a place to camp on the edge of the forest, sheltered from the wind by a low hill. It was near a stream, but just far enough away from Xena's camp to avoid the locals coming to scavenge the remnants the mercenaries had left behind. They had lingered there themselves only long enough to collect some food and a couple of blankets, one mostly clean enough to cut up for bandages.

Hercules could tell they were going to need a lot of patching up.

Iolaus started to gather wood from under a stand of pines so Hercules cast around for a good spot to dig out a firepit. This turned out to be a more complicated procedure than usual, as it required him to sit down on the ground, an action that brought a number of painful bruises to Hercules' attention. Trying not to wince, he scooped out the pit and got the tinder started.

His head ached from a wound in the temple and the long slash in his shoulder still burned, though it had finally stopped bleeding, and he had little cuts and not so little abrasions all over. Watching Iolaus wince as he stooped to pick up branches and grit his teeth as he sat on his heels to deposit the collection nearby, Hercules shook his head, grimly amazed at both of them. Alcmene had been right when she said that for the past year Iolaus hadn't had any joy in his eyes; Hercules just wondered what in Tartarus was wrong with him and why it had all come to a head over this.

Iolaus added a few sticks to the tinder, then sat back with another wince. Knowing he had no one to blame but himself just made it worse. Fuming at his own stupidity, he lifted his vest to probe at a sluggishly bleeding scrape across his ribs. He had a whole catalog of bruises and strains, and his nose hurt. Looking up, he became aware of Hercules' steady regard. "What?" he demanded defensively.

Hercules frowned slightly. "What do you mean, 'what?'"

Iolaus' eyes narrowed. "You keep looking at me."

Hercules stared incredulously. "I don't know, Iolaus." He pretended to consider it. "Do you think you've done anything lately that might cause me to look at you in an odd way?"

Iolaus grimaced. _Okay, well, he's got me there._ He looked away for a moment, glaring doggedly at the ragged grass under the trees. He was determined not to try to make excuses; not that he had any rational ones to make. But he said roughly, "I wasn't going to kill you."

Hercules let his breath out. "I know that." At least Iolaus was willing to admit it now. _That's an improvement_. He knew Iolaus had deliberately missed an opportunity to slice the top of his skull off. Hercules didn't know if he was an immortal, but he knew he wasn't invulnerable, and he couldn't have taken an injury like that and lived. They had sparred with each other all their lives, but they hadn't fought with that much real anger since they were young enough for Alcmene to break it up with a couple of swats from a broom.

_Maybe it was just...temporary madness._ Hercules wasn't exactly in any position to point fingers when it came to that; after Hera had killed Deianeira and his children, he had been literally out of his mind with grief and rage. But his madness had been abrupt and he had been shocked out of it before doing anything worse than wrecking a number of Hera's temples. He had realized Iolaus had been quicker to anger lately, and quicker to despondency too. But it had come on so gradually over the past few months.

Alcmene thought Iolaus needed a woman in his life again, and that was undoubtedly part of the problem. He remembered how depressed Iolaus had been when he had found out that his friend Syreena was married. _But he's not going to find anyone in the village, that's certain._ Like Syreena, most of the young women were either married or already attached and no one new had moved in for the past few years. Becoming known as a spot that periodically tended to suffer the wrath of Hera and various other gods hadn't done the place much good, Hercules reflected grimly. Iolaus had been involved in enough of those demonstrations of wrath that people might even see him as someone to avoid as well.

Ignoring Hercules determinedly, Iolaus awkwardly twisted around to poke at the scrape on his ribs again. Hercules didn't remember giving him that cut; it must have happened in the fight with Xena's men afterward. He studied Iolaus' profile, just visible past the curtain of sweat-matted curls. At the moment it was made even more stubborn than usual by knit brows and a bitten lip.

Hercules found that he minded the argument that had led up to the fight far more than he minded the wounds. And he was afraid that Iolaus would let what had happened with Xena sour him further, that he wouldn't trust anyone with his heart, or anything else, again.

Hercules set his jaw. He had to get to the bottom of this, whether it stirred the whole bitter quarrel up again or not. He said grimly, "I'd think she put some kind enchantment on you, except that you've been like this for most of the year."

Past the hair, he saw Iolaus' lip curl in aggravation, though he didn't look up. "If you want to go, then go."

Hercules snorted in annoyance. "I want to help you." Iolaus did look up at that, his face set in wary hostility. Hercules admitted honestly, "And possibly hit you again, but mostly help you."

"I don't want help." Iolaus started to reach for his pack, then cursed and sat back slowly. He eased off his vest, wincing. He had a pattern of greenish bruises darkening to blue-black across his chest and ribs.

"What do you want, then?" Hercules demanded.

What Iolaus wanted was to sit quietly and nurse his wounds and his humiliation, and be left alone by demigods who kept asking him questions he couldn't answer. But he couldn't say that. "I don't want to fight anymore," he said through gritted teeth, pretending to be wholly occupied by his injury.

Deliberately, Hercules said, "Really? I couldn't tell. From here it looks a lot like sulking."

Iolaus threw him an angry glare. "Yeah, you'd be the expert on that." Then he swore under his breath and looked away.

_Ouch,_ Hercules thought, pressing his lips together. He was usually the one who tended to nurse his temper until it came out in sarcastic bursts, while Iolaus who was quicker to anger tended to let it out and get over it. This temporary role reversal wasn't doing Iolaus any good. And obviously he still wanted to fight. Hercules couldn't see any way to help that without letting him do it. He tried to think of something to say that would be deliberately provoking but not deal any permanent wound. Then he had it. He jerked his chin at Iolaus' impressive array of bruises and said acidly, "Are those from the fight, or did Xena give them to you in bed?"

Iolaus snarled, rocking forward on his heels to jump Hercules, then remembered abruptly that that was how they got into this mess in the first place. He didn't like being pushed to that point again, and he didn't like that it had happened so easily. "You know, fine, I'll go." Stung, he grabbed his vest and surged to his feet.

"No, you--" Hercules lurched forward.

Through a haze of anger Iolaus was half-hoping Hercules would stop him so he wasn't unprepared when the demigod rammed into him from the side and tackled him. Iolaus twisted as he hit the ground, punching the vulnerable spot right under Hercules' breastbone. The demigod gasped a curse as Iolaus threw him off and rolled free, leaving Hercules sprawled on his back. But as Iolaus scrambled up Hercules stretched out a long arm and caught his calf, yanking him off his feet. Iolaus hit the ground with a startled yell. He kicked backward but Hercules ducked and flung himself on him. They rolled and scrambled in a flurry of dirt and torn-up grass. Then suddenly Iolaus was flat on his back, a big demigod firmly on top of him, one arm pinned over his head and the other against his chest.

"Great, you win again," Iolaus snarled sarcastically. "Now we have to talk--"

Hercules rolled his eyes in exasperation. With a sudden imperative need to get Iolaus to shut up, he let go of one arm, wound his hand in Iolaus' hair and pressed his mouth against his.

He had caught Iolaus with his mouth open and he tasted of blood and sweat. Hercules had an instant to reflect that if his friend was still mad enough to bite him in the tongue, this was a big mistake. But Iolaus didn't bite him. He didn't do anything. Wary of a trick, Hercules started to push himself up so he could see his face.

He realized his blunder when a sharp blow struck his forearm, sending him off-balance and setting Iolaus free. He grabbed for Iolaus' shoulder but his hand slipped off sweat-slick skin. Then he felt a boot planted against his hip and he was tumbling over backward. His back hit the ground with a breath-losing thump and Iolaus was straddling him.

This was the part where if Iolaus really wanted to win, he would jump up and kick him in the head, but he didn't. From his expression, still wary but with an undercurrent of feral anticipation, Hercules knew Iolaus was planning something, he just couldn't think what. Then Iolaus braced his hands on Hercules' shoulders and shifted into just the right position. Pretending to look uncertain, he ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip. _He knows I like that_, Hercules thought grimly. It had to be a trap, but Hercules let his hands settle on Iolaus' hips. Then Iolaus rocked. Once. Hercules drew a sharp breath.

Then Iolaus grinned and pushed up, gathering himself to spring away. Hercules muttered, "Oh no, you don't." Surging upward with him, he hooked an arm under Iolaus' leg and rolled, flipping Iolaus onto his back.

Iolaus landed with an exasperated curse, this time with one knee looped over Hercules' arm and pinned against his chest. His other leg was trapped under Hercules' body and one arm pinned over his head. "Well?" Iolaus demanded. Just because this was his favorite wrestling hold didn't mean he was giving in. They were both breathing raggedly now, not from the fight.

Hercules shifted and something snapped with a loud crack; they both froze in alarm. "Ow," Iolaus said tentatively, trying to sort out a sharp new pain from all the less recent aches.

"Was that you?" Hercules asked sharply, brows drawn together in consternation.

Iolaus had tracked the sensation down to the middle of his back, but he didn't think it was anything attached to him. Arching up and using his one free arm to dig around in the flattened grass underneath him, he came up with a broken tree branch. He tossed it away. "No."

Hercules stared at him, then swore in frustration and relief. He sputtered, "Sometimes you just...."

"What?" Iolaus demanded angrily. "If you're just going to criticize, give me my leg back."

Hercules eyed him a moment, one brow lifted in a particularly annoying way. "Okay." He let go abruptly, pushing to his feet. The sudden release from the hold and Iolaus' own coiled tension made the smaller man do a backflip and land in a heap. Furious, Iolaus shook the hair out of his eyes and looked up to see Hercules with a perfectly deadpan expression that meant he thought this was hilarious. The demigod shrugged. "That's the way you want it."

As Hercules made to step away, Iolaus kicked him in the back of the knee. He rolled out of the way as Hercules landed with a thump and a curse, but as he scrambled to his feet Hercules caught him from behind.

Iolaus fell forward, skidding into the ground, catching himself on his forearms. Hercules' arm wrapped around his chest, flattening him down into the softer grass. Iolaus wriggled, pulling up a knee and gathering himself to shove free. Then he felt Hercules' hand move down, pressing warmly against the taut muscle of his stomach. The sensation was distracting, close as it was to an area that already felt uncomfortably constrained. "Hey," Iolaus objected, not very strenuously, "We're still fighting."

"You win." Hercules nuzzled the back of his neck. "I take it back."

"Take what back?" The hand was moving in circles now but Iolaus felt there was a principle at stake.

"Something about Xena...I don't remember," Hercules admitted. He sounded distracted too. "I just said it so we could fight, anyway."

Principle satisfied. "Well okay then."

Iolaus hurt too much to let Hercules set a slow pace; his bruises were turning into bone-deep aches and the wrestling match hadn't helped. He pushed the issue until he was on his hands and knees and they were moving together, sweat stinging in cuts and scrapes, his swordarm trembling and barely able to support his weight. When he felt his body tensing toward the edge, he didn't try to delay it, but came with a heartfelt gasp. His arm gave out just then and he collapsed. He nearly did a face-plant in the grass, something that wouldn't have done his sore nose any good, but Hercules, with a surprised "oomph" noise, caught him around the chest. Still dopey with release, Iolaus reflected that there were benefits to having a demigod partner with lightning reflexes and the ability to react instantly under just about any circumstances. That thought cracked him up and he started to laugh. For some reason that sent Hercules right over the edge after him.

The demigod drew a deep breath, somehow managing not to either drop Iolaus or fall on him. He eased them both down and Iolaus relaxed under his warm weight like an unstrung puppet, the cool grass cushioning him. Hercules made a noise in his throat, half-contented and half-relieved.

Hercules' breath warming his ear, Iolaus let himself drift, relishing the moments before he had to start thinking again. Hercules started to rub the back of his neck, his fingers moving through Iolaus' hair. Then Iolaus felt something drip on his shoulder. He turned his head and spat out some grass, blinked and saw blood trickling down his arm. "You're bleeding."

"Hmm?" Hercules sat up on one elbow. Iolaus rolled over, pushing sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes to peer up at him. The newly-formed scar tissue over Hercules' shoulder wound had split open and bled down the demigod's chest, mingling with sweat and torn-up bits of grass. Looking down at himself, Iolaus saw the blood was all over his shoulder and back as well, and probably in his hair. If anyone came by and saw them, it would look like they had both been slaughtered and molested by bandits, in that order. "Was it good for you too?" he asked brightly.

Hercules snorted, then grimaced and lifted a hand to his head. "Ow."

Iolaus awkwardly wrestled his pants up, managing to get the broken laces tied. Everything was beginning to come back now, and he reminded himself that nothing had really changed. He was still an idiot. Ignoring a twinge from his back, he sat up on his knees, looking around for their scattered belongings. While Hercules sat up slowly and struggled with his own clothing, Iolaus found a clean rag and soaked it from the waterskin. He tossed it to Hercules and the demigod pressed it to the ugly wound with a wince.

Hercules regarded Iolaus, who had found another scrap of cloth and was half-heartedly scrubbing at the blood that had dripped down his shoulder. Iolaus looked tired and resigned now, which was a big improvement over angry and humiliated. "So what's wrong with you?" Hercules asked, making it sound matter-of-fact.

_Good question,_ Iolaus thought. He wished he knew the answer. He hadn't felt like himself in so long, he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be him at all. He shook his head wearily. "I don't know. I don't care. I just want to go home."

Hercules let out his breath. He wasn't sure that was such a good idea. When Ania was alive, Iolaus' farm had been a noisy, happy, crowded mess, always filled with children and animals, theirs and everyone else's. Since Ania and the boys had died, it felt lonely and hollow. In Iolaus' current state, it was the last place he needed to be.

This was the first time Iolaus had lived alone, Hercules realized suddenly. Iolaus had gone from living in his mother's house with too many brothers and sisters to living with the Lowacks gang to living in the crowded barracks of the Academy to staying at Alcmene's farm in between travels with Hercules to living with Ania. For Iolaus' entire life, he had been alone only when he chose to be, never by necessity. Now there was no one left at the house, and he had sold or given away all the animals. He had even given his dog to Hercules' children. It had been sleeping on Clonus' bed the night they were killed, another innocent victim of Hera's wrath. "Home to your farm," Hercules repeated thoughtfully.

"Yes." Iolaus stared bleakly off into the trees.

Hercules nodded. He knew too well what it was like to get used to coming home to someone, and having that someone taken abruptly away. He had destroyed the wreck of his house in a fit of grief and madness, but he had never regretted it. He didn't think he would have been able to do what Iolaus had done, and come home to that empty place, where every warm memory of the past would be twisted by the terrible reality of the present. "Your farm that you hate," he prompted.

Iolaus snorted ruefully. "Yes."

"Why?"

Iolaus took a deep breath. "I...." He gestured helplessly, as if he had never thought about it before. "That's where I live."

"Because Ania would want you to?" Hercules persisted.

Iolaus stared into the distance for a moment, frowning slowly. "No," he said. "She wouldn't want me to.... She wouldn't want that."

Hercules nodded to himself. Getting him away from that place wouldn't solve everything, but maybe it would help enough that Iolaus could deal with the rest. "I think you should go back to travelling with me."

Iolaus looked up at him sharply. Hercules suddenly wasn't sure what his friend was thinking, which was not a state he was familiar with. He shifted uncomfortably and continued resolutely, "Just... get away from the place for awhile, do something that you know is worthwhile, that you can believe in."

Iolaus was still watching him uncertainly, and Hercules added, "You know, fighting warlords, killing monsters." It occurred to him belatedly that this could be taken as a selfish request. _Solve your problems by coming with me and risking your life,_ he thought suddenly. _Is that what I just said?_ He looked away self-consciously. "If you don't think...."

"You'd really want that?" Iolaus' voice was quiet.

Hercules gestured helplessly. "Of course."

"Why didn't you ask me before?"

Hercules considered the question seriously, his brows drawing together. He said finally, "Because I didn't realize you thought you'd need to be asked."

It was Iolaus' turn for an attack of self-consciousness. He dropped his gaze, poked at the fire with a stick. Then he shrugged. "Okay."

"Okay...what?" Hercules asked cautiously.

"Okay...." Iolaus' lips quirked in a smile. "You shouldn't have to ask me."

 

 

 

**end**


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